


Agent 13 / Black Widow

by agentx13 (rebelle_elle)



Category: Captain America (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 14:10:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelle_elle/pseuds/agentx13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Steve comes back from Dimension Z and reports that Sharon Carter is dead, only one person doesn't believe it wholeheartedly. Natasha is determined to bring Sharon back to Earth, dead or alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hours and Years

Natasha lived with death. In her world, parallel universes were normal, world-destroying villains became flavor-of-the-week, and the people she knew died. Friends, coworkers, loves, it never seemed to matter. They all died in the end.

But this one was different. "You're wrong."

Maria Hill shook her head as she stood. "Captain Rogers saw it with his own eyes. We’ve since closed the portal to prevent... mishaps. If you want to read what I know, it's in the report. You have the clearance for it."

Natasha noticed that Maria Hill didn't seem pleased about that fact. But Natasha's Avengers status still gave her access to files that SHIELD normally wouldn't let her near. It had come in handy more than once. Hill tossed the file on the desk and strode to the door. Natasha pulled the file closer. Inside was Sharon's bio, with front and profile pictures attached. The two of them had joked before that SHIELD had a lot of things in common with prisons.

Hill paused in the doorway. "Sharon and I have worked together before. I know you two were friends. I just thought you should know..."

"Thank you." Natasha's voice was calm, level, betraying none of her thoughts. She had lost friends before, after all. She never got used to the pain, but she had learned to accept it. But she wouldn't accept this. She had been on missions with Sharon before. The woman was smart, quick, decisive, skilled. She and Natasha both had fought supervillains and sparred with Captain America and Valkyrie.

No, Natasha could accept her friend's death. Just as she had accepted the deaths of countless friends before.

Right after she found Sharon Carter's body.

* * *

Water lapped against Sharon’s cheek as she woke. She turned her head, her eyes slowly opening.

Why was the sky green?

It took her several moments for her to remember Steve and Jet flying away on the bike. She couldn’t blame him for leaving her – she had thought she would die. She’d certainly been willing to die if it meant stopping Zola’s invasion.

After several breaths, she lifted an arm. She expected it to hurt, but instead, there was nothing. She _had_ been blown up, hadn't she? She must have been. Her SHIELD-issued watch was pulverized, her uniform's sleeves in tatters.

She sat up slowly, expecting pain at any moment. Throughout her career, she had been stabbed, she had been shot, she had been beaten. How did getting blown up hurt less than any of it? Her feet ached sharply, but that seemed to be it.

She got to her feet and checked her uniform; one foot hurt to stand on; she must have sprained her ankle. There wasn't enough left to make a string bikini. Her weapons were gone, as was her utility belt. Her boots had holes in them. She could feel a rock in one.

She sat again and pried her boot off. At last, she felt the pain she had been expecting all along as her skin stuck to the inside of the boot and tore. She cursed and dropped the boot, cradling her foot. It was red and black and bloody, and some of the blisters were leaking. She stared at it, hardly able to breathe. She had been in an explosion with temperatures so hot her foot had boiled in its boot. And it hadn't been a rock in her boot; it was a toe. One of her toes that had come off in the explosion. She was missing two others, too.

Her hands started to tremble as she reached up to feel her head. Once she verified that it was in tact, her fingers drifted to her ears, her nose, her arms. She had to look to make sure she had all ten fingers, moving one at a time to make sure they worked.

Everything was fine, then. Everything except for her feet.

Okay.

That was okay.

She could live without some of her toes. She could live with the pain in her feet. She could live having to hobble until she could learn how to walk and run again. When she got back to SHIELD, she would just take a desk job. She'd be fine. She'd be okay.

She pried off her other boot, tears slipping down her face as, once again, parts of her flesh came off with the leather. Her ankle was swollen, and it took several minutes to extract her foot. As she finally got it out, her bones scraped against one another. Her vision blurred with pain, and she fell forward, landing in the water with a splash. She shuddered there for several minutes.

Okay. Missing toes and a broken foot. This was okay. Not ideal, but she could survive it. She _would_ survive it. The first step was to get herself out of the this water and find food and shelter.

She pulled herself onto the bank and gingerly lifted her feet ouf ot the water. She froze.

Her skin was knitting together. There were stubs where the missing toes had been, and while she watched, the stubs grew and nails appeared.

She swallowed thickly. She didn't regenerate. Steve didn't even regenerate. Sure, he healed faster than normal. Sometimes, it seemed half the people Sharon knew healed faster than normal. But she could name the people who could regrow phalanges on one hand, and she wasn't Logan.

What had changed? An explosion had given Carol her powers, but that had involved the Kree. If Zola had the same capabilities... Sharon shuddered. No. If Zola had been capable of regenerating like this, he would have utilized it and never shut up about it. It had to be something else.

She watched drops of water slide down fresh pink skin and studied the water running past. Had it done this? If it had healing properties and she had landed in it immediately after the explosion, it would explain how she had survived. Her uniform had been torn by the explosion, but her waterproof boots had stayed more or less intact. Her feet hadn't been able to heal until the water had reached them.

After a couple seconds, Sharon wiggled brand new toes.

Water with regenerative properties.

That certainly changed things.

* * *

Natasha sat on the couch of the Richards' living room, sunlight streaming in through the large windows. Though Natasha had enjoyed the view before, her thoughts were elsewhere now. It had been three hours since Hill had filled her in, five hours since Hill had found out Sharon was dead, seven and a half hours since Steve had come out of “Dimension Z,” as SHIELD had taken to calling it. If every half hour translated to twelve years in Dimension Z, then Sharon had already been there for 180 years.

She should have given up hope by now. But Sharon was one of the best spies she knew, and Natasha had seen her share of spies.

She wouldn't believe Sharon was dead until Natasha saw Sharon's body.

Sue came in and set a suitcase on the floor beside Natasha's feet. "I wish you'd tell me what this was about." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she held up a hand. "I know, I know. Top secret spy stuff." She sat in a nearby recliner and crossed her legs, her arms on the arm rests as she watched Natasha inspect the suitcase's contents. "If there's anything else I can do..."

Natasha ran her eyes over the device as she contemplated the offer. Sue could be invaluable in Dimension Zola. Not only could she turn invisible, but she could form force fields. But Sue had just gotten back from outer space with her family. Neither Natasha nor Sharon had ever had children, though they each knew how it felt to lose a child. And though Natasha had never known her parents, she knew that she couldn't take Sue away from her children.

"Show me how it works."

* * *

In the fifteenth year, Sharon stopped wondering about the green sky and started wondering if she would forget a blue one. She could still remember the stench of Brooklyn after a summer rain, and the sweet, stinging freshness of Spring in Richmond, but she was slowly forgetting what it felt like to run on asphalt or feel the hum of a fighter jet as it tried to stay airborne.

She tried to remember it all, to keep it close. But memories were secondary to her mission. It hadn't taken her long to realize that if she had survived, Zola likely had as well. Within weeks of her arrival, she had stumbled upon a mutate encampment. The fight had been brief, but it had yielded two things: the first, clothing; and the second, the mutates, too, were convinced Zola was alive and would be sending orders to their village any day now. After she made sure none of the mutates escaped, Sharon kept watch over the village for weeks, waiting for the messenger as she tailored the clothing into something that would fit her.

After the end of the second month, she burned the remains of the camp and moved on to see if she could find any more mutates or whispers of where to find Zola.

The months stretched into years. It seemed as if life was nothing more than a blur of hiding, fighting, and hiding again. Monsters lived underneath the ground, many of the plants were predators. Air so hot she couldn't breathe could replaced by a blizzard in seconds. Eel-like creatures flew in the skies, trying to eat anything they saw that moved. Mutates spoke in broken English, usually with variations of "kill kill."

In the fourth year, she found the wall with the tunnel and tried to climb. She could barely make it twenty feet before the handholds disappeared. She frowned as she dropped to the ground again. How had it been worn away so smoothly? How long would it take to find a way out?

She missed having dinner on the roof, shopping with Natasha, sparring with Valkyrie. Well, maybe not the last. She fought far too often now to miss sparring, fighting so much that it left a tired ache in her bones as she hiked back to the water with the healing power. Of all the places in this world, that was where she felt safest. It was impossible to learn locations here - the two suns never rose or set in the same place, the terrain could change during sandstorms or floods, but this place always seemed to stay the same. She didn't know if it was one of the side effects of the water that kept the land constant, but she was thankful for it, no matter what it was. Even though she knew it was dangerous to stay in the same areas and keep to patterns that the mutates could figure out, she still returned time and time again. She took precautions, of course, settling up makeshift shelters that could hide her and yet be destroyed quickly, moving through the area and trying not to keep to a pattern, but she couldn't stay away forever. The area was one of the few that offered any degree of peace. As much as she hated the thought, this place had become a warped version of home for her.

And then there was the day her solitude changed, the day she found a man bathing in the water.

She drew closer. In all her years here, she had never seen another person, mutate or Phrox or otherwise, and to say she had become distrusting would be a gross understatement.

But what she saw on the riverbank made her pause, and then in a flash, she was beside the water. She had her blaster leveled at him and the still-familiar red, white, and blue shield in her hand by the time he’d seen her and started toward shore.

“Where the hell did you get this?” she demanded.

He eyed the blaster with the calculating glance of someone who had nearly died so many times he was no longer afraid of it. “My father.”

“You’re lying. I know the man who owned this. He never would have-” Sharon’s eyes fell to the shield again, tracing the spikes that someone had put along the edges, then going back to the man. He wasn’t so much a man, though, as a teenager. Long dark hair, dark eyes to match. Something about him was familiar...

And then she recognized him.

The shield slipped from her fingers, and he caught it and held it between them, peering over its edge to gauge whether or not she would shoot.

“You’re Ian.” He was older now, but he was obviously still the same boy she had- Oh, God. This was Ian. She had thought she had killed him. Steve had left believing she had killed him, that Ian, the boy he had raised as a son, was dead. But he was alive. She hadn’t killed a child after all. She hadn’t killed Steve’s son.

“And you’re Sharon Carter, the woman who shot me in the neck. Are you going to shoot me again?”

She lowered the blaster just slowly enough that he wouldn’t feel threatened, then quickly turned off the safety and holstered it. “I’m sorry.”

And then she started crying. Though she said it was because she was glad he was alive, it took her thirty years to admit the full truth - that she had realized that if Steve hadn’t come back for his own son, there was no way he’d come back for her.


	2. A Possible Return

Sharon Carter wasn’t anything like Ian had expected. He knew of her from stories told by the mutates and the Phrox, how she had murdered Leopold Zola, then Arnim Zola. The mutates that he had interrogated had felt Leopold Zola's death was a good thing, as his fight against Captain America had become much less interesting after Ian had come to his senses. They weren’t as pleased as the Phrox that Ian was alive.

And the Phrox weren’t as pleased as Sharon Carter was. She wasn’t the cold-blooded killer he had imagined. The tears aside, she had been, for lack of a better word, kind to him. She had taken him to a small cave for shelter the night they first met, shared food with him, asked questions about his well-being, asked about his time with Steve. They had talked late into the night about Ian’s father, and when he woke the next day, she fixed breakfast. He wasn't certain he trusted her - if not for her ability to tell him about Steve, he wouldn't like her at all - but he was confident she hadn't poisoned him and ate everything on his plate. All the food tasted awful, and he was glad that she was such a bad cook. He'd hate for her to have a point in her favor.

But she had a point in her favor nonetheless. She, like his papa, was full of stories of back home, about baseball games and the Avengers and SHIELD, things Papa had talked about. As envious as he was that she had seen his father’s world, Ian was happy to have a link to Steve alive again, and Sharon seemed to feel the same about him.

It wasn’t until he was preparing to leave that she asked if he’d heard anything about Zola being alive.

“He’s dead. You blew him up. You’re... you’re legendary for it.” She was, if possible, better known in this world than Papa, and no small part of Ian resented it.

“Everyone thought that about us, too,” Sharon pointed out. “Your fa- Zola. We’ve thought he was dead before, and yet he always comes back. I’ve come across mutates who still think he’s alive and mounting a resurgence.”

“Zola is dead,” Ian said firmly.

She bit her lip. At length, she nodded. “Fine. But if you ever hear anything to the contrary, or you need to get in touch with me, leave a message for me in the cave. I’m by here every couple months."

He nodded, but he had no intention of leaving her a message. Zola was dead. He had to be dead. Everything Papa had worked for couldn’t be for nothing. Sure, there were still mutates around, but Ian could deal with them.

On his own.

But let Sharon Carter think he would talk with her if the need arose. All the better to avoid her. The meeting might have been more pleasant than he had expected, but she wasn’t Steve. She was the person who had shot him through the throat, whose chest moved when she walked. She was a murderer, a legend who didn't deserve the accolades she got. She wasn’t his Papa, and he didn’t feel comfortable around her.

Yes. Much better to have nothing to do with her.

* * *

His resolve lasted seven months. He had done well not to think of her except in passing for four months, but then he had heard of three burned-down mutate villages. Before, he had attributed the stories of destroyed mutate villages to their own stupidity, but that was before he knew Sharon Carter existed. Now he started tracing the villages’ locations on a map, working out the details and deciding that yes, she’d been fighting the mutates just as he had. Perhaps they could take down mutate settlements together some day. Some day when there was a chance that he needed her or she might get hurt.

If he could ever tolerate her well enough.

Over the passing months, he continued business as usual. He fought mutates, helped Phrox set up fortified, self-sustaining settlements, and tried not to think of everything he would never have now that Papa was gone.

He was heading to a new Phrox settlement when he spotted a mutate running through a field. Ian stopped to watch. The mutate carried a tube in its hand. Ian frowned. A mutate running with nothing chasing it was generally bad news, as was a mutate running with something other than a weapon in its hands. Papa had taught Ian to notice such signs, and he jogged through the brush. Even slowed down by avoiding the creatures that lived in the trees, dragging their tails like vines and using them to capture prey, Ian still managed to cut off the mutate, leaping at him as soon as the mutate left the clearing and pinning him to the ground with the shield.

The mutate screeched in fury and twisted to try to throw Ian off, but Ian had dealt with mutates enough that he was ready. He pressed the shield against the mutate's arms and held them down.

"Zola boy!" the mutate screamed, recognizing him. "Zola boy. Princeling is proud!"

"And why is that?" Ian drawled. He didn't want to hurt the mutate unnecessarily yet, but being called Zola's son made him put more weight on the shield. The mutate's skin started to writhe, bumps like spikes rolling beneath its skin.

"Papa back! We rule now. Must rule!"

Ian froze. Papa? Papa was back?

One of the spikes pierced the mutate's skin, and something burst from it, changing its direction to fly at Ian's face. He barely had time to register it as he moved the shield to protect himself, but he got the impression of a head on a muscular tendril. He tried to jump away from it, but something - no, several somethings - were holding him in place. He glanced down only to see that more heads had broken through the mutate's skin and were biting his clothes to keep him close. He lifted the shield over his head, preparing to slice through the tendrils, when one of the faces jumped toward his. The mutate's hand followed, throwing sand into Ian's face. Ian cursed and closed his eyes, fighting by sound. One blow to his head knocked him around, and the teeth that had been holding him in place withdrew, and he fell back, twisting around and getting his shield up.

"Save you," mutate said. "Soon. Save Zola boy."

Ian heard sounds of the mutate fleeing through the brush and cursed again under his breath. Blinded as he was, he doubted he'd stand a chance against the mutate and the other creatures living here. He'd have to find the mutate later.

Once his vision cleared enough, he made his way slowly back to the water, feeling better as his scrapes and cuts healed and the bite marks that had hit unprotected skin disappeared. He soaked in the water until dusk began to fall and then made his way to the cave.

He'd argued about this the entire time he'd been walking here. If Papa was back, he didn't want Sharon Carter to be a part of his life. He wanted to have his papa to himself. But then, the thought of seeing Papa tell her off had become too tempting, and the message he had settled on leaving was brief. "Papa returned. Look for me at following Phrox settlements."

It also occurred to him, though he was loathe to admit it, that Sharon Carter might know more about finding Papa than he did. Another reason to dislike her.

* * *

Sharon finally caught up to him at the second settlement. She was covered in dust and sand, and her eyes as she passed through the gates were wary despite how tired she was. As soon as she had gotten the message that Steve was back, she had set out, trying her best to find the settlement when the geography in this place rarely stayed constant.

The Phrox kept their spears trained on her as they waited for Ian, not knowing what else to do with her. She kept her stance relaxed, not wanting them to worry any more than they already were.

When he finally came into sight, she noticed that Ian was taller than she remembered. Was time moving faster than she had realized? Would she herself age despite the water and end up old, weak, defenseless against all the enemies in this place?

She quelled her panic, if only for the time being, and gave him a brisk nod. "You said Steve is back. Do you know where?"

Ian shook his head. "But the mutate said he was back."

Sharon inclined her head toward the spears trained on her. “Let’s talk somewhere more private.”

Ian nodded and gave the Phrox quick orders, waving a hand for Sharon to follow him. He sat on the floor in a small hut, a makeshift table acting as a desk in front of him. She sat across from him, surveying the papers on his desk. Some were notes on mutates, some were in code, and others were sketches. Her lips curled into a smile as she recognized aspects of Steve’s art. She’d never been as good at art as he was, had never had his eye for it, but after all her time with him, she’d learned to recognize certain things he did, a curl here or a heavy hand there. It was like handwriting analysis, in a way.

“Did Steve do these?” She carefully pulled one of the sketches closer.

“Those are mine,” he said. He seemed to struggle for a moment, and then he grinned to himself.

Inside her chest, Sharon felt something loosen. She had thought Ian would struggle with whether to like her or not; she had given up hope that he _would_ like her, actually, but the grin was promising. It seemed she had, quite by accident, said the right thing. “They’re excellent. Steve...” She slowly slid the sketch back to where it had been. “Steve would be proud.” She didn’t look at him to see what reaction he might have. She couldn’t. She had gone so long thinking she would never see Steve again that now the hope that he was here made her ache. She swallowed and took a moment to push the hope down. She wouldn’t achieve anything if she wasn’t pragmatic.

When she was sure of herself, she met his eyes. “Tell me everything.”

She listened as Ian told his story, asked questions, and listened some more before asking yet more questions. His patience with her indicated that Steve had done the same. It wasn’t long, though, before his eyes flashed and he nearly slammed a fist against the table. At the last second, he relaxed his arm, gently touching the table instead of hitting it.

“Why does it matter how wide the tube was? We already decided it was a cannister with letters in it?”

Studying him, Sharon hoped Steve _was_ here. She wasn’t sure she had the patience for the boy for much longer. “Back on Earth,” she said, trying to be patient and wondering when “patience” became the word of the day, “rulers would send messengers to post messages in different cities and towns. They would read the messages, then put them somewhere public so everyone could see. The size of the cannister could give us a ballpark estimate of how many announcements the mutate had. If we know it was nearly full, we know that Steve or Zola-”

“ _Papa._ ”

“-or Zola was nearby.”

Ian moved away from the table and crouched. She knew the position; she’d leapt at people in attacks from that position before. “Papa is back.”

She didn’t move. If he wanted to attack her, she would be able to handle it. But as she looked at him, she had to wonder if he was right. She wanted to believe Steve was back, that he’d come to rescue one or both of them, but why now? Nearly sixteen years had passed for them. More than half an hour back home. Could Steve have found some way to save them when he had no reason to believe they were both alive?

“Either way, we’ll pursue whatever leads we find. I hope you’re right.” She climbed to her feet. “But I need you to be prepared for the possibility that you’re wrong. In the meantime, show me what Steve’s taught you about spy work.”

* * *

Natasha surveyed the damage. Not only had the portal to Dimension Z disappeared, but it seemed to have taken the roof of the tunnel with it. It was yet another obstacle that had to be dealt with. For this damned device to work with the best chance of success, she had to return it to where the portal had last opened. She had traces of the dimension with her - Hill had sent her part of the remains of Steve’s uniform. But now she had to dig through a tunnel, and though minutes were passing by for her, months were passing by for Sharon. It was a wonder she was even still doing this. Sharon couldn’t possibly still be alive.

But she’d already said. If she wasn’t bring Sharon back alive, she was bringing back something to bury.

“Do you think it would be good enough to place it at the edge of the rubble?” she asked. After several seconds of silence, she half-turned. “I know you’re there, Sue.”

Sue turned visible, floating on a force field. She dropped to the floor. “How did you know I was here?”

Natasha merely raised an eyebrow. How did she know? She was one of the best spies in the world, and she had known in the office that it would be difficult to make Sue stay out of this. She waved a hand to the caved-in tunnel. “Is close enough good enough? There’s no telling how much time she has left.” Though Sharon was likely out of time as it was.

“If you have to ask, then no, it isn’t good enough.” Sue moved to stand directly in front of the cave-in, pressed two fingers to her temple, and held out her other hand. An invisible force pushes the rubble to the sides. Slowly, a large scorch mark appeared, and Sue kept pushing until she found the beginning of the mark - the opening must have been there.

“Thanks.” Natasha stepped forward and began to set up the device.

Sue followed, looking down the tunnel behind them. There had been caution tape at the entrance, which Natasha had ignored, but she still wasn’t certain security or someone else wouldn’t be by soon. “You could have just asked me to move it for you, you know.”

“Not as much fun,” Natasha responded. She lifted her head. “I’m going in. Alone. You’re staying here for two reasons. The first is because a half hour out here translates to twelve years in there, and you have a family. The second is because someone has to guard this device. Hill disabled the SHIELD security to let us in, which means others can come in, too. If I’m not back in half an hour, call me back regardless. Do you understand?”

A line appeared between Sue’s brows. “You’ll still need me.”

“Maybe.” Natasha pushed a button, got to her feet and shouldered her pack. “ _Maybe_ I need you here, though I could have found another way if I needed to. There, though? Not a chance.” A greenish-blue glow appeared behind her, quickly turning greenish-yellow. Natasha gave Sue one last look. “I hope you brought a book.” And then she stepped into the light and was gone.


	3. Reunion

He hated her. He had never known how much he could hate another human being until she came along.

They’d been working together for years now. Leads were few and far between, and in their down-time, she insisted on training him and the rest of the Phrox. She had a different fighting style than Papa. It was more direct, more brutal. She drilled them in sneaking around, taught them codes, taught them how to set up better intelligence networks. Papa had taught them all of this, but he hadn't drilled them the way Sharon did, and he hadn't taught them as much as Sharon. She said she had been a spy back home, but Ian suspected she had been a hellion. Those who didn't want to participate were talked to, goaded, pushed, and prodded until they participated just as much as everyone else. She said that people who couldn't fight might get other people killed, that it was vital to their safety and the safety of those around them to train as much as they could. Though Ian knew she was right, he suspected that Sharon also liked getting her way.

When they had quiet moments, she told him what Papa was like early on, when he’d just come out of the ice. She had stories about Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes and Tony Stark and SHIELD. Ian had to admit, he loved the stories. She wasn’t always good at telling them - Papa had done voices and added details about the way things looked - but she didn’t dress things up, either. Papa had always pointed out how people could have been better, Sharon said they could have been better but left it at that. Ian wondered sometimes if Papa saw people better than they deserved or if Sharon saw them worse than they deserved, but when she told the stories, he concentrated on nothing but those.

Over the years, he had actually come to respect her, even like her. They had saved each other’s lives, taught each other things. He would never be able to teach Sharon how to cook a good meal like Papa had taught him, but she could do well enough to get by and would always do the dishes if he cooked.

And he hated her.

He hated her because it had taken him, what, twenty years to ask the question? And she hadn’t stopped laughing since. Every time he thought she was done, she would look at him and start laughing.

All he had asked was why her chest moved so much.

He knew about the Phrox, of course. Some of their women had breasts to help feed their children. They didn’t bind them. They didn’t do anything with them. He had never particularly cared or even noticed until he’d seen Sharon. In Papa’s paintings, her anatomy hadn’t... moved as much as it did in life. He had asked Papa why she was shaped different, and Papa would only say that women were shaped differently than men, and he would tell Ian more when Ian was older. Ian had taken it for granted, obviously. He had thought the shapes were a way of differentiating between men and women. The only other woman he’d seen in person, after all, was Jet, and it wasn’t as if he’d had time to ask Jet why she was shaped differently.

It took two days for her to stop smiling when she saw him, causing him to avoid looking at her as much as possible, and as the two of them were hiking to another mutate settlement to try and track down leads about Papa, it made for an awkward experience, to say the least. Not that he cared. She deserved his silence and disdain if she was just going to laugh at him.

And then something worse happened than the laughter.

She answered his question.

And then she kept talking, explaining things he’d never thought to ask, had never known to ask, had never wanted to _know._

God, he hated her.

* * *

“Another dead end,” Sharon said as they surveyed the damage. The two had been whittling away at the lakeside outpost for almost two weeks. The mutates had evolved ways that, though neither of them admitted it, frightened them. As a result, the two had been running reconnaisance, taking out guards and outposts one or two at a time until they’d had to fight the mutates directly. Ian had rarely been so thankful for his shield and Sharon’s explosives knowledge.

“Not entirely.” He knelt down beside one of the mutate corpses. “They were tougher this time. Did you notice?”

“How could I not?” she sounded tired. If she felt half as worn as he did, he couldn’t blame her. After a moment, she followed him over. “The shrapnel didn’t work as fast as it used to. Like they were healing.”

“They were.” He frowned at multiple holes in the mutate’s thick hide. Like the mutate he had come across carrying the message, this one had been able to change its shape at will, turning its arms into venomous tentacles. He twisted the mutate so Sharon could see the wounds from the shrapnel, already half healed.

She dropped to the ground beside him to get a better look. After several moments of thought, foreseeing what this meant, she cursed.

“It can’t be, though,” Ian argued. Her curse confirmed his own suspicions - Zola really was alive and improving the mutates somehow, somewhere, which meant the mutate who had said Ian’s Papa was back might not have meant Steve, after all.

Something in his tone must have worried her; she looked up and was beside him in seconds, one hand on his knee, the other on his shoulder. “Ian. We don’t have time to give in to emotion right now. They’re healing. The mutates are managing to heal faster than they used to, which means they're going to be harder to fight and they're going to kill more people before we take them down.”

He had grown accustomed to having her close, had, despite certain conversations about shapes, come to trust her. So even though he leaned away from her, he didn’t lean far enough to evade her touch. Having someone touch him like they cared about him reminded him of Papa. The thought made their discovery hurt all the more. “That doesn’t mean Papa isn’t back!”

Her eyes softened, and she didn’t speak right away. “If Steve is back, we’ll find him. But for right now, I need you to name all the things here that can heal mutates, Phrox, and humans faster than normal. I can only think of one.”

Ian pulled up his legs and rested his chin on his knee. He, too, could only think of one place.

Oh, no.

He looked at her in alarm, and she nodded as she got to her feet. “Right in front of us the whole damn time.” She held out a hand. “Let’s go kill your biological dad once and for all, shall we?”

Ian stopped and pointed to something falling through the sky. “Should we take care of that first?”

* * *

Natasha found she didn’t need her parachute after all. After the first eighty feet of freefall, her fall had slowed until nearly a standstill. This hadn’t been mentioned in Hill’s report, but Hill’s report had been cobbled together secondhand from Steve. Natasha had the sneaking suspicion that there were a lot of things in Dimension Z that hadn’t made it into the report.

While she drifted downward, she surveyed the layout of the place. There were some mountainous regions, wide swaths of desert, lakes of putrid green sludge, forests where vines had strangled the trees long ago and now covered the bones. She looked back up to the hole in the wall that she’d come through. Somehow, she was going to have to get back up there. If Sharon were injured, or even alive...

Sharon had told her once that of the two of them, Natasha was the one who was reckless. Natasha hadn’t believed it at the time. She’d chalked it up to all her years in the spy business that had helped give her an edge. She simply thought faster than Sharon did, considered different scenarios faster. Of course, her willingness to jump into this dimension without taking her usual precautions was making her question whether Sharon had been right. She knew next to nothing about the environment, and for what? A friend who was likely dead already.

She kept her chute closed as she drifted closer and closer to the ground. It would, she thought, be easier to sneak around.

Of course, she was already close enough to see creatures swarming beneath her and knew that sneaking around was out of the question. She sighed. How was it that no matter what dimension she was in, the bad guy’s henchmen were universal? Several of the creatures below were crawling over themselves in an effort to reach her first, and Natasha drew two of her guns and waited.

When she was only ten feet above them, she called down, “I don’t suppose you’ve seen a woman, have you? Blonde, blue eyes...” Something that looked like spit and smelled like acid shot past her cheek. Natasha twisted her head, found the source, and aimed her gun as she said in a civil tone, “She does bring out that reaction in quite a few people.” She shot twice and smiles at the assortment of monsters below. “So do I.”

One of the monsters jumped and tried to catch her foot; Natasha flipped in the air, twisted, and kept falling. Now, though, she was falling faster. With gravity more like what she was used to, she smiled grimly and started fighting. Part of her had always felt fighting was more of a dance, and Natasha, even with her background, still had a soft spot for dancing. Though the memories were false, they helped her think of more innocent times. There was a purity in dance, just as there was a purity in fighting. Perhaps that was why the Red Room had made her think she was a dancer.

Either way, Natasha liked to lead.

By the time she hit the ground, twenty of the creatures were on the ground, several in pieces, and Natasha was running low on ammunition. She was too accustomed to taking stock of her situation to pause to do so, however, and in fluid movements turned to hit one of them in the face with the butt of her gun. “I’ll ask again. I’m looking for Sharon Carter.” The creature fell to the ground, and Natasha kicked him in the face with the heel of her boot before moving to the next. “If you don’t tell me where she is, I’m afraid I’ll have to get rough with you.”

“Blood hair die!” one of them screeched, and the cry was soon taken up by all of them.

Natasha grabbed one of them, flipped over its shoulders, and used the momentum to throw him at the others. “I do not dye my hair.”

And then, even after all her years in espionage, all the times she had seen friends brought back to life, and all the times she had seen the impossible, her eyes widened. A familiar red, white, and blue shield tore through the creatures, only... had Steve put spikes on his shield? And what was he doing here? She thought he was still in the infirmary at SHIELD.

Her eyes followed the shield as it arced through the crowd, but before she could follow it to its source, she had to duck to avoid one of the creatures. She lashed out with a kick over its back, wrapping her leg around its neck and pulling herself up, using the momentum to get above the crowd. Through the fight, she got glimpses of dark hair. Not Steve. Not Sharon.

And then she saw blonde hair.

“Natasha?”

“Sharon!”

Sharon fought her way over, knives flashing with a speed Natasha didn’t remember her having. “What the hell are you doing here?” One of her knives disappeared in a creature’s throat, and she kicked the hilt to make sure it went deeper.

“I’m here to rescue you, obviously.” She flashed Sharon a grin, and Sharon gave a belated laugh. “I wasn’t entirely joking,” Natasha continued, her tone light. “I was going to find out if you were really dead and get you out of here.” Out of ammo, she shoved her gun into one of the creature’s throats and kicked it out of the way to deal with the next while the first asphyxiated.

“Even if you only found my corpse?”

“Even if.”

Sharon punched another creature in the eye. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Natasha said cheerfully. “That and half-assed escape plans, of course.” Her eyes watched the shield fly out in another arc. “Don’t tell me you’ve taken up with a new guy.” She kicked off one of the creatures to somersault to yet another. By her count, they were down to six creatures, but they seemed to be the toughest and the smartest ones. They were in for a fight.

“Fine by me.” Sharon twisted to avoid a blow, dropping to the ground and kicking its feet from beneath it.

“Wait, are you really-”

“You told me not to tell you.”

“Ha,” Natasha called. “Very ha.”

“What I’m here for.”

“DUCK!” Upon hearing the man’s voice, Sharon dropped into a crouch. Natasha, trusting her lead more than the man’s order, followed suit barely half a second later.

When they stood again, he was shoving the shield’s new blades into the back of a creature’s head. He strapped the shield back onto his arm. “Sharon? Who’s that?” He stared at Natasha, taking in every detail. “Is- Is that Natasha? Romanoff, right?”

Sharon wiped her knife off on the grass. “We should talk. But we need to do it somewhere where half the mutates won’t swarm us in the next ten minutes.”

* * *

None of them exchanged words while they jogged away. At one point, Sharon grabbed Natasha’s arm and pointed to a vine Natasha had been about to brush away. Sharon shook her head, and Natasha had followed the unspoken order even though she didn’t entirely understand it. Steve’s report, as incomplete as it had been, had said things were weird, even backward, in Dimension Z; she supposed this was one of the ways in which it was weird.

The group didn’t stop jogging until the grass gave way to thick forests which in turn gave way to desert. The desert burned with bright orange as the sun set. Sharon led the way at a brisk walk with frequent stops to check their position. Before long, the three were lost in the growing shadows, and Sharon still didn’t stop for what felt like hours until they reached a small opening dug into the side of a sand dune. She and Ian looked at each other for a moment, and then Ian passed both the women and ducked inside.

Sharon crouched down, making her that much more difficult to see over the sand dune. Natasha followed suit, even though she didn’t know what could possibly see them. She hadn’t seen a living soul other than the three of them since the fight.

“Ian will make sure the caves are clear.”

Natasha frowned into the darkness of the tunnel. Already, she couldn’t see or hear Ian. “Who the hell is he, Sharon? How’d he get Steve’s shield?”

“That’s Ian. He’s Steve’s son.”

Natasha moved closer and started to feel Sharon’s head for bumps. Sharon batted her hands away.

“I’m serious. Steve raised him for years before he went back home.”

Though she dropped her hands, Natasha stayed close. “Sharon. I read Steve’s report. He never mentioned a son.”

In the near-darkness, Sharon stared at her. Slowly, quietly, she started to laugh. She didn’t stop until it hurt too much to go on. “You- Oh, God. You think he’s trying to dupe me. You’re- You’re trying to-” She chuckled again and brushed some hair out of her face. After all these years with no one but Ian and the Phrox, it was something of a mess. But at least Natasha wouldn’t hold it against her. “Natasha. I appreciate that you’re trying to protect me, but Steve really did raise him. Kidnapped him from Zola’s lab as a baby or a toddler and raised him for twelve years. Zola took him back, brainwashed him into killing Steve. I shot him. I thought I’d killed him.” She smiled sadly. “When Steve left, he thought I’d killed his son. And he hasn’t been back to see that Ian’s alive.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and relaxed against them. She didn’t say anything more. She didn’t want to talk about how Steve hadn’t come back for her or his son. Natasha would understand.

“Why wouldn’t Steve mention him, though?”

“What, that he lost an adopted son because his girlfriend shot a child in the throat? I don’t know.” Her tone was tinged with frustration, and after a moment - one that Natasha was sure to notice - she attempted to deflect. “Did his report have a page limit?”

Natasha frowned at her. She didn’t wonder that Sharon didn’t want to talk about Steve. Though the two were friends, they were different in ways that sometimes worried her. Natasha had known for years that Sharon needed therapy sometimes. Kidnapping, brainwashing, shooting Steve, and Natasha had pieced together that Sharon had likely been sexually assaulted behind enemy lines while officially dead, with no hope of rescue. So the therapy hadn’t been a surprise, really, and Natasha had been glad to hear Sharon was getting help. But she’d heard enough of Sharon’s missions to know that Sharon didn’t care about killing herself if it meant the success of a mission. Part of her wondered sometimes if Sharon would ever kill herself on purpose. Natasha knew how precious life was; she hoped Sharon lived long enough to know it, too. But pushing too soon could hurt Sharon more than she was hurt already. Natasha would allow the subject change for now, but she also knew that Sharon would need to talk about it eventually. “Your jokes have gotten worse.”

“I’ve had limited material for jokes. No dogs to put in car trunks.”

“I still can’t believe you did that.”

“Says the woman who lured the dog into the trunk in the first place.”

“Because you told me to put the treats in the trunk!”

“And who knew the world’s best spy would be so gullible?”

Natasha grumbled and kicked one of Sharon’s feet out from under her. “How the hell are you two alive? And you, you’re supposed to be... Sharon, I thought I’d be dragging a corpse home.”

Sharon swallowed. In the darkness, Natasha couldn’t see it so well as hear it. “But you came anyway.”

“You’re my friend, Sharon. What else was I going to do?”

“Steve was almost my fiance, and he’s Ian’s father. He didn’t come with you.” Sharon didn’t seem angry, though. She didn’t sound bitter, either, as she had the last time she’d been left in the cold. She sounded sad. Resigned.

In the darkness, Natasha found Sharon’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Despite Sharon’s lack of anger, she didn’t think talking about Steve was the best thing for her to do at the moment. “How did you two survive? And with aging so little?”

Sharon took a breath. “First. Our first mission together. What did Steve do?”

A question that only the three of them knew the answer to. So Sharon didn’t trust her. It was only natural, but Natasha still withdrew her hand. “Paperwork.”

“What did we advise her to do about her bullies?”

“Kill them. And _we_ did no such thing. That was you. I told you, I never went to high school.”

There was a pause, and Natasha could almost make out a faint grin on her friend’s face. “Why didn’t you listen to me about her?”

“Because Tatiana needed help and I promised myself I would protect her. And I don’t break promises.” This time, she was the one to pause. “And I promised myself I would get you out of here, even if there was nothing to drag out but a corpse.”

There was a sound like a muffled sob, and then Natasha found herself tackled in a fierce hug. Natasha hugged back, one hand smoothing Sharon’s hair. “You always were emotional.”

Sharon laughed roughly. “Doesn't mean I can't kick your ass.”

“You wouldn’t kick my ass. I’m your daughter.”

There was a quiet cough from the entrance of the cave, and both women looked up. Natasha could just make out Ian’s features, and she had rarely seen anyone look so confused or shocked. “Sharon? You- you never mentioned- You and Papa never mentioned that-”

Sharon groaned and headed toward the cave. “She’s not actually my daughter, Ian. She just makes really bad jokes. They’re designed to embarrass people. Like this.” She looked over her shoulder at her friend. “Natasha, go easy on him. I explained women’s bodies to him a couple decades ago, and he still isn’t over why our chests move so much.” She disappeared into the cave, and a moment later, Natasha heard a chuckle she had thought just a world ago she would never hear again.

She sighed and passed a shell-shocked Ian. “You’re evil. _Mom._ ”


	4. Mutates on the Move

Safehouses all looked the same after a while. It wasn’t necessarily the architecture. It was the feel of them. When Natasha followed Sharon through a hidden hole in the wall and into a room, Natasha saw the room for what it was - a safehouse. There were blankets in a corner, a roughly hewn pot and equally roughly-made pan, some wooden buckets, and the tell-tale marks in walls that she had learned indicated hidden openings. Sharon was already standing, lighting a candle with a couple of rocks.

Ian closed the entrance behind him and glared at Sharon. “You didn’t have to tell her that.”

“She isn’t going to hold it against you.” Sharon set the candle on the floor and sat beside it. “She’s one of Steve’s best friends, and you’re his son. You could murder people, and she’d forgive you.”

“Only because I’ve murdered a few myself,” Natasha said wryly. She turned to Ian. “But that doesn’t mean I’m all right with you running around killing people. You'd need to have a reason. And I'd be obliged to point out that killing should probably be avoided.”

“I’m not going to kill people.” Ian’s grip tightened on his shield in exasperation. One Sharon Carter was bad enough, and here he was, stuck with two. “Papa taught me better than that!”

Sharon and Natasha looked at one another. Neither would ever say aloud and in front of him that he sounded like a teenager, but they each understood the other was thinking the same.

Natasha sat beside Sharon, careful not to disturb the flame. “Okay. Third time. How did you two survive?”

This time, it was Ian and Sharon’s turn to share a look, and Natasha didn’t need the candle to see that the two had grown close. It wasn’t romantic, but it was familiar. At length, Sharon spoke. “There’s a mountain nearby that doesn’t change, unlike the rest of this place. Gravity changes - you saw that on your arrival here. But then other things change, like the weather. Even the environment. But the mountain has water that... repairs things. Preserves them. Ian ended up in it after I shot him. I woke up in it after I’d been blown up. I had... there were holes in me, Natasha. I was missing body parts - toes. The water couldn’t get to them because my boots were waterproof and hadn't come entirely off. But after the water touched them, they regrew. Once we realized what the water did, we kept going back.”

Ian took a breath as if he were about to speak, but then he fell back, staying against the wall with his shield still out.

Natasha watched Sharon’s face closely. “So you’re trying to live even though you should have died. That doesn’t sound like you.”

Sharon glanced at Ian. “We think Zola is still alive.”

“And you refuse to die until the mission is completed.” Natasha smiled. “That sounds much more like the Sharon Carter I know. Very well. We’ll just have to ensure Zola is dead so you can find a reason to live other than killing him. Do we have a plan?”

“Not yet. But we have a place. We think the water is keeping Zola alive, just as it was keeping us alive. We intend to find him and destroy him.”

Natasha nodded. It was a vague plan. But she knew Sharon well enough to know that Sharon would do intense reconnaissance beforehand. And she suspected that Sharon had hardened in her time here. Her smile returned. “You really are old enough to be my mother now.”

Sharon groaned. “Not that again.”

Her smile widened. “It’s going to get worse. Ian, sit down. Since she tried to embarrass you, I'll do the same to her. I’m going to tell you the very true, very embarrassing story of how Sharon Carter became known as my mother.”

Sharon looked up in alarm. “What? No. You can’t tell him th-” But Ian was already sitting, waiting for Natasha to begin.

* * *

Something wasn’t right. Things were supposed to be right. Sharon’s friend, one of her best, had come here to save her. Her friend would have a way to reach home long after Sharon had given up on the possibility of ever returning. Her friend was one of the most capable people Sharon knew, and together, she, her friend, and Ian would beat Zola.

But something wasn’t right. As they introduced Natasha to Phrox allies on their way back to the water, Sharon was the happiest she’d been since her arrival here. But sometimes Natasha would get quiet. When Natasha caught Sharon watching, Natasha would start talking about their plan to defeat Zola. Even after all these years, Sharon knew Natasha’s quiet wasn’t due to thinking about Zola. Something else was bothering her.

But according to Natasha, they had twelve years here before Sue would return Sharon and Natasha whether they were ready or not. Sharon knew better than to think Natasha would want to spend twelve years here, though. As for Sharon, she didn’t know if she cared. She’d already been here for so long, what was another decade?

On their way home, they trekked through thick woods, with Sharon taking the time to teach Natasha what to watch out for. It was important that Natasha know the land as well as herself and Ian, and Natasha was a quick study as Sharon pointed out trees weren’t always trees, vines that weren’t always vines, patches of grass that weren’t always grass. “My guess is that all the time we’ve been looking for Zola, he’s been creating more mutates that can blend in to their surroundings, escape detection, and multiply down the road.”

“His way of winning even if we kill him,” Ian added.

Sharon nodded. “We’ve been teaching the Phrox how to fight, and they know the mutates. They’ll know what to watch for after we’ve left.” At the thought, she grinned softly. “You’ll finally get to see a baseball game, Ian.”

“And see Papa.”

“And meet lots of girls,” Sharon teased. “I know lots of girls who like to hit things as much as you do. I’d be happy to introduce you to some of them.”

“Oh, God. Natasha, she’s doing that thing again.”

Natasha inspected a vine, her face inches away. Without warning, she stabbed it and pulled downward with her knife. The mutate’s innards began to drip out, and several other vines that had been hanging from the tree curled upwards. “She’s just a proud mama wanting to show off her little baby.”

Sharon stared at her, flummoxed. “Now I'm his mama, too? Is that a thing now? You aren’t honestly going to make that a thing.”

Ian ignored her. “You were only supposed to embarrass _her,_ Natasha. Why me, too?”

Natasha jumped over the tree’s roots and pinched Ian’s cheek as she walked past. “Because it’s too much fun not to.”

Ian stared at Sharon as Natasha headed down the path. For a moment, Sharon looked just as flummoxed as he was, and then she grinned. “Don’t worry. Not all the girls back home are as mean as Natasha.”

Ian groaned. “Just... I’ll bring up the rear. You get in front of her. She doesn’t know where she’s going.”

“She’s Natasha Romanoff. If she wants to go somewhere, she’ll get there.” Her voice was firm, but Ian had a point, and she didn’t want her friend to die in the attempt to save her. Sharon moved forward to take the lead.

* * *

Within a week, Natasha knew the land around the mountain range as well as they did. The three of them went over the land multiple times a day, noting the influx of mutates. As the mutates had been avoiding the mountain for decades, Sharon and Ian noted the mutates' arrival with trepidation. It didn’t bode well.

"In a way, it's genius," Natasha said, watching from behind some leaves as a group of twenty arrived. "He could have hundreds of years here, completely unchanged while on the outside we age and die, and all the while he could have plan after plan, and we wouldn't be able to rest between attacks."

"Except for how we're here to stop him," Sharon pointed out. And thank God they were here to do it. If Zola could spend decades planning to attack Earth and Earth only had hours to defend itself, Earth didn’t stand a chance. 

“You have a plan for this?”

Sharon grinned. She lay on her back beside Natasha, studying a collection of her blades. Every so often she gave one or another a polish. “Secret Avengers style. Except with more explosions and fewer survivors.”

Natasha grimaced. “Aren’t you the one who crashed the quinjet?”

“In the desert! Nobody knew but the bad guys, Steve, Val, and Rhodey.”

Natasha watched in silence for a few seconds more. “Admittedly, we weren’t the most covert team.”

Covert. The word jogged something in Sharon’s memory. She chuckled. “Remember that time in Russia?”

“It didn’t involve explosions, though.” Natasha focused her attention on a pair of mutates that carried axes into the woods. “Besides. You can’t be surprised we got caught. You didn’t even know Russian.”

“I learned a little! I picked up some curse words, at least. Besides, my cover didn’t need to know Russian.”

Natasha chuckled. “You’re cute for someone old enough to be Nick Fury’s mother.”

“Ouch.” Sharon put the knives away and turned to watch with her. “That was harsh, kiddo.”

“Kiddo?” Was that going to be a thing now? She handed over the binoculars and pointed to the mutates headed into the woods.

“Mom.”

Ah. A classic blackmail-using-nicknames scenario. “Well-played,” Natasha commended. 

“Thank you.” She adjusted the binoculars and frowned as a tree began to shudder.

“You are, though.”

“Are what?”

“Old enough to be his mom. You’ve been here for over 180 years, Sharon.”

“Ha.” Sharon’s tone was flat. Most of her attention was still on the shuddering trees. “It’s only been forty, fifty years.”

Natasha stared at Sharon as her friend moved the binoculars to the moutain and back to the woods. “Sharon...”

Her friend lowered the binoculars but didn’t speak right away. Knowing better than to speak, Natasha instead simply put a hand on Sharon’s. “I figured it out. I guess when I fell in the water, it just took some time for it to put me in one piece again.” She glanced at Natasha, then quickly lowered her eyes. “Ian was dead when he fell in. I shot him through the throat. I thought-” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. I shot and killed a child. Just because he came back doesn’t make it okay.” She swallowed. “But he doesn’t know how long he was dead, and I don’t know how long I was dead... I was just hoping- I didn’t know how much time had passed.” She groaned and rubbed her eyes. “I’m almost old enough to be Logan’s mother.”

Natasha patted her hand. “Or Thor’s.”

“Keep talking like that, and I really will kill you.” Sharon sobered as she thought about having killed Ian. She took a breath. Too late to cry about it now.

Natasha sensed the shift in Sharon’s mood and grinned. “I think I could take you, old woman.”

“Maybe a hundred years ago, kiddo.” Sharon tapped Natasha’s knee and moved away from the ledge. “Before we meet up with Ian again, are you going to tell me why you’ve been weird?”

Natasha followed. “Weird?”

“There’s something bothering you, Natasha. You’ve been brushing it off, but I haven’t been here long enough to forget how you are when you’re hiding something.”

“One of my best friends is essentially immortal. Of course I’d be bothered. I’ve been calling you Mom for so long, and suddenly you’re old enough to be my mother. Did I make it happen as some sort of prophecy? Am I a mutant? Should I talk to Logan about attending his school?”

Natasha and Sharon looked at each other as they headed back to the cave the three of them were using for shelter.

“You’re so full of crap.” Sharon’s tone was fond, though. “Fine. Tell me when you’re ready.”

* * *

Ian didn’t bother with niceties. When he saw them walking toward the cave, he headed out to meet them. “They’re getting ready for something. We need to attack sooner rather than later.”

Sharon and Natasha traded a look again, and Sharon shrugged. “I don’t think we’re going to get any more information than we’ve already got. We’ll hit them tonight. Now which one of you is going to cook?”

Natasha scoffed. “I poison people with a regularity most people find disturbing, and you want me to cook?”

Ian grumbled. “Sharon’s cooking poisons people. You poison people without cooking. I guess I’ll make dinner. Again.”


	5. The Widow Strikes

“It’s quiet,” Natasha murmured as they skulked through a . “Too quiet.”

“If you say we’re hunting wabbits, I’m shooting you.”

Ian frowned at them both in the near-darkness. The tunnel they were in was also used by mutates, and the dim, yellow light didn't entirely hide pieces of shed skin and blobs of liquid that had hardened like jelly. Ian didn't even want to know what that was supposed to be. “I don’t understand anything you two say. But Sharon, you really need to stop shooting people.” He rubbed his throat.

“Ian, I told you. It’s been 180 years. Let it _go._ ”

Ian fell into quiet grousing.

“Don’t worry, Ian,” Natasha said from behind them. “We’re all out of bullets, so no one’s getting shot today.”

They walked along in silence for several seconds before Sharon said, "Or maybe I've been holding on to my last round for 180 years."

"You can't have," Ian pointed out. "You lost your guns when you blew yourself u-" Something hit the shield on his back, and he stumbled into Natasha. He turned to see a pair of mutates armed with guns large enough to double as small canons. "I told you to shut up! Run!"

Together, the three of them ran down the tunnel, not slowing when they finally got to curves that could protect them from weapons fire.

“Split up!” Sharon shouted. “Find the control room. Find Zola!”

“And let’s try not to shoot everyone this time!” Ian shouted back. 

Natasha darted down the first tunnel that branched off, Sharon the second, and Ian the third. So far, he thought, everything was going according to plan.

But he knew that wouldn’t last for long.

* * *

He went down two tunnels, only to find them both blocked by mutate squads that filled the tunnel as far as he could see in the dim light. Both times, he turned back to the main tunnel and tried to work his way in another way, with the mutates howling and making gutteral noises behind him. After the third time, he tried to retreat down the main tunnel, try another avenue, perhaps catch up with Sharon or Natasha, but that was blocked the same way. Those mutates, too, called out as if to signal he had reached them.

Ian wasn’t sure what was more worrisome - that these mutates were communicating with each other and strategizing, or that they were obviously herding him somewhere. 

His steps slowed. If they were going to ambush him soon, he was going to conserve as much of his strength as he could. He checked his shield and moved farther down the tunnel.

He wasn’t expecting the tunnel to end at a doorway.

Ian half-turned behind him, listening to the mutates’ calls. They were no longer howling, but the noise was somehow louder; he wasn’t sure if the noise indicated how many mutates they had - certainly more than he had ever faced alone before - or if it was merely a result of the echoes. He looked again to the door. He remembered when he’d been younger and he and Papa had told him about curiosity killing a cat. It was one of the phrases from Papa’s world he’d never understood, and he hadn’t had the chance to ask Sharon - it hadn’t occurred to him. But Papa _had_ taught him bravery. 

Shield held ready in front of him, Ian opened the door and was immediately overwhelmed by a stench of decay and rotten meat. He coughed and peered inside through eyes that were suddenly watering. Was that-

“Papa?”

He barely had time to register the pain on the back of his head before his vision turned black and he fell to the floor.

* * *

Sharon knew the mutates were behind her. Most had gone after Ian, but as worried as she was for him, she told herself that he was capable. He’d been trained by Captain America. He’d been fighting mutates longer than most people had lived. She and Natasha had both sparred with him. If he wasn’t ready for this now, he never would be.

Part of her couldn’t help but worry, though.

She put on a burst of speed and ran down a tunnel that was mostly shadow, jumping and using pressing her hands and feet against the sides to situate herself against the ceiling. She stayed there until five mutates went past, watching them in the dim light with a frown. One was sniffing the air, searching for her. She guessed she had less than a minute before he found her.

She dropped down and crept up behind him silently, slitting his throat with a cold calculation that she wasn’t certain she’d had before she’d ended up here. No, that was wrong. She’d had it, she just hadn’t needed to use it. Truth be told, with Steve, she’d always been a little afraid to show that part of herself. 

Less than two minutes later, she was on her way again. She didn’t bother to hide the dead mutates; Zola likely knew by now that he had infiltrators. 

She continued making her way silently, slaughtering any mutates she thought would slow her down or call out the alarm. She found her way to the upper levels. She knew what the better light and better security meant - a better chance of finding Zola. She drew her knife again, cutting all the cords she came to. Zola could hack into anything faster than she and Natasha could, but if she left him nothing to hack into, their chances might improve. 

She’d been at work for nearly twenty minutes before a glass door drew her notice. On the other side, everything was brightly lit. It took her a moment to realize she was looking at a laboratory; she hadn’t seen one in decades. Most of the machines looked even more alien to her than the mutates.

She drew closer. There was a body on the table, shirtless, dressed in blue trousers. She couldn’t see the face, but she knew.

Suddenly, she was using speed she hadn’t used in years, even in her fights with the mutates, yet it still felt as if too much time had passed before she reached his side. “Steve!”

But no. He - _it_ was wrong. Half of his face was misshapen, red muscles visible beneath one eye, the corner of his mouth twisted and gaping. She involuntarily took a step back. This wasn’t Steve. What had Zola been doing?

“It is not perfect, no,” a familiar voice said from behind her. She spun to face him, relieved to see him in a smaller body. She heard a quiet hiss as she slipped into a fighting stance, realizing too late what the sound was as she inhaled a cloud of gas. Her muscles immediately started to feel loose, but she fought it as she fell to her knees. She had to fight it. She had to stay awake. Ian was depending on her. It took her a moment to realize that Zola was speaking again. “But now you and my son are back, woman, I can fix it. Thank you for returning him to me.”

Sharon frowned and tried to speak again, but Zola shot her with the gas again, and she toppled over, unconscious.

* * *

Sharon felt as if she’d been dragged through the wringer. If her arms and legs hurt, she couldn’t tell over the pain in her head. It felt as if she’d been drugged and beaten, and on top of it all, as if she had a massive hangover. She reached up to touch her head, only to find that she couldn’t move her hands.

She sat forward with a start. She hadn’t thought of Faustus and the Skull in a long time, but now she felt as if she were their prisoner again. Her heart pounded, and her panic wasn’t eased when she finally managed to force her eyes open.

Ian was strapped to a table, tubes filled with blood going from his arms to another machine. Blood was dripping off the table from a wound at the back of his head. His eyes were closed, and for a moment, she thought he was dead. She had to force herself to think, to remember that Zola would need Ian alive for a blood transfusion, if nothing else.

“Ah. The woman wakes.” Zola approached Ian's side and flicked one of the tubes. A table of surgical instruments and Ian’s shield was behind him. “You are lucky I have use for you yet.”

Sharon smirked. All Zola’s experience with criminality, and he hadn’t thought to gag her. “I’m going to kick your ass, Zola.”

He swivelled his body around to look at her, the lips of his electronic face curling upwards. “With your telepathy, no doubt.” He studied her a second more before turning away. She recognized it for what it was - a message that he didn’t fear her. She’d take more comfort in thinking he was wrong if she were able to get a hand free. “No matter. I must thank you for returning my son to me.”

She snorted. “Come off it, Zola. That isn’t your son, no matter what he or Steve think. He’s just some kid you got your sick, twisted hands on at an early age. Jet, too. You just told them they were your kids because you thought it would make them easier to control.”

For a moment, it looked as if Zola might argue, and she twisted her wrist to try and loosen the ropes. When Zola spoke, though, he was calm. “You spies. You think you know everything. You know nothing.” He kept working on Ian, and Sharon felt a stab of panic. Whatever he was doing to Ian, she knew it couldn’t be good.

“I know how you stayed alive so long. Nanotech in the water, isn’t it? Like what Machinesmith infected Steve with last year, only this tech is meant to preserve.” Her grin was dark. “Bet you didn’t count on the nanotech getting loose when I blew up your place last time.”

Zola moved toward her, his steps still slow and steady. Aw, crap. That was never a good sign.

Sure enough, the first thing he did was backhand her in the face so hard she fell to the side. The second thing he did was talk, but she was too dazed to hear him. She tried to lift her head; her vision was swimming, but she could see that he was going back toward Zola.

And he’d given her a way to get her ankles free. If she could stretch enough, she could slip her bound ankles down the chair leg. 

Before she managed it, the lights in the cave went out. Zola, of course, was still visible, his monitor glowing in the darkness. She watched as he cursed and smiled to herself. A second later, she had another reason to smile - there was pressure at her bound wrists as someone cut the ropes. A second later, her ankles were free as well.

“You’re late,” she whispered into the darkness.

“You’re early,” Natasha retorted.

Zola belted out orders to the mutates to turn on the lights. Sharon watched for a moment, then sought Natasha in the shadows. Her eyes were adjusting; she wasn’t sure if that was good or not. If Zola’s eyes were adjusting, too, this could be difficult. “Get Ian.”

“You don’t have to do-”

“Get Ian.” Sharon’s voice was firm. She knew that Natasha was an assassin. She knew that Natasha was an excellent assassin. But Sharon needed to do this, not only for herself, not only for the humans Zola had attacked so many times before and would likely attack again, but for Steve and Ian. She understood that Natasha was trying to protect her from following through with this choice, but she also understood that she’d never needed that protection. Sharon could kill.

All of her weapons had been taken. As she crept toward Zola, she grabbed the chair. 

First step was to get Zola away from Ian. She went to the far side and called Zola’s name. He turned toward her, and she threw the chair at him before flitting to the other side and grabbing Ian’s shield from the table. She charged him, sliding her arm into the straps. She remembered what happened when she’d last tried to throw the shield, and she also knows that other than Steve, only Bucky and Clint Barton had been able to throw it without embarrassing or injuring themselves. 

Zola half-turned before she got to him, but he’d never been much of a fighter. He relied too much on henchmen and being able to escape to other machines. Thanks to Natasha, however, those were all dead.

She kicked him in the shoulder; he caught himself as he spun and tried to punch her. She blocked the blow with the shield, struck by appreciation for how much of the force the shield took. Her appreciation only lasted a moment. Sharon had never forgotten the mission. Beat Zola. Protect Ian. Save the people on Earth who didn’t even know they were in danger.

Zola was mostly metal, though, and he’d had over a century to perfect himself. Still, the shield had spikes that Ian had tested time and time again. He kicked her, hitting her in the leg before moving away. She grimaced and kept going. She knew what he was doing; he was trying to stall until he found another body he could jump into.

She wasn’t going to give him the chance. She leapt again, dodging as he tried to hit her, and brought the shield down on his arm. His forearm fell to the ground, and she barely registered it as she threw back the shield, hitting him in the camera where his head was supposed to be, the stem snapping in half. 

He swung at her with his other arm, but she ducked and hacked at his leg with the shield; it took her two tries to break it completely. 

He cursed her with the female slurs she’d long ago grown immune to. She ignored them; but she couldn’t ignore when he grabbed her hair. He to balance on one leg, pulling her with him as he toppled backward. 

Sharon grit her teeth and shoved unstrapped the shield from her arm, lifting it to hit him in the arm. His grip only tightened, and Sharon hit him again. He cursed her, and she brought the shield down yet again and rolled away as his hand broke off. She used the momentum of rolling away to roll back, kneeling before him. 

The image of his face on the monitor spat. “Vile wench! Your death is long overdue.”

Sharon was careful not to move her eyes, but she checked his arms and legs in her peripheral vision. She forced a smile, only to find it wasn’t as hard to fake as she’d thought it might be. “Zola. I told you over a century ago that I was glad I’d be the one to kill you.” She lifted the shield over her head. “You have no idea how glad I am that I get to do it again.”

She brought the shield down on the monitor as hard as she could. The image of his face faltered, and she hit the monitor again, then again and again. She didn’t stop until Natasha squeezed her shoulder.

“This might be a good time for me to mention that I rigged the place to blow. And Ian might want his shield back.”

Sharon looked to see Ian standing nearby, staring at Zola’s body, and swayed for a moment before forcing herself to her feet. She held the shield out to him. She didn’t say anything. What could she say? That she had a habit of killing his fathers?

Ian took the shield and gave her a terse nod. He stepped toward her, and she wondered what he was going to say. He’d never told her off enough for killing him before, not as much as she thought she deserved. And then he lifted his hand, and she wondered instead what he was going to do. 

“I did mention that I rigged this place to blow, right?” Natasha murmured. 

He reached over Sharon’s hair and gently tugged Zola’s hand out. She hadn’t even noticed it was still caught in her hair. He tossed it aside, then nodded to Natasha. “Let’s move.”

Natasha didn’t need to be asked twice. Ian nudged Sharon to get her moving, and the other two ran as quickly as they could after Natasha. 

As they ran, Sharon heard an explosion. “Natasha! We aren’t out yet!”

“Oh, that’s just something else,” Natasha called back. “Run faster!”

The three put on more speed, but they’d barely cleared the tunnel when Natasha yelled at them to get down. Ian pulled Sharon to his side as Natasha leapt in, and he held up the shield as the blast struck.


	6. Escape from Dimension Z

Ian didn’t lift the shield until the dust had settled. “I heard. I couldn’t move much, but I heard what you said about Zola not being my dad.”

Sharon frowned. “Let’s see to that head wound.” She glanced at Natasha over Ian’s head. “Steve will worry if he sees it.” Natasha went to the tunnel entrance, and Sharon frowned after her. Something was wrong. Ian squeezed her hand, and she turned back to him.

“Was it true, though?”

She was quiet for a moment and busied herself with trying to get a better look at his wound. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t put it past him.” She watched as the skin beneath his scalp slowly knit itself together. “Let’s get that washed out.” She heard Natasha whistle and looked up in time to catch a flask.

“He’ll heal fast.” Natasha walked over and clapped Ian on the shoulder. “Zola had some papers. Apparently, he gave Ian some of Steve’s blood back when Steve was a captive.”

Sharon stared at her for a moment, then laughed. She waved them both off when they looked at her in concern. “He was creating a super soldier. He just didn’t realize he was creating a real one.” She laughed again, this time having to wipe a tear away. “For a genius, he’s an idiot.” And it was good to know that as long as she’d been his captive, after all the things Zola had done to her, he could sow the seeds of his own destruction. As much as she’d feared him, worried about him, dreamt of defeating him, it hadn’t occurred to her that he might somehow destroy himself.

Natasha moved to stand beside Sharon. Though there was no touch between them, Sharon understood that it was Natasha’s way of comforting her, of showing she understood. “We have another eleven years before we have to go. I suggest we clean this place up of mutates as best we can before we go home.”

Sharon looked to Ian. “It’s less than half an hour back home. It’s only been hours for Steve. And the mutates can still spread Zola’s virus. The Phrox will have-”

“-a better chance if we stay to help.” Ian shouldered the shield. “Papa wouldn’t want us to leave them in trouble.” He didn’t add that other than Sharon and Papa, the Phrox were the closest thing he had to a family.

Sharon didn’t entirely manage to hide her relief. “Then we’ll stay until the job is done.” She grinned at Ian. “For what it’s worth, I think Steve would be proud. No matter what name you have or what Zola says, you really are Steve’s son.”

* * *

Almost eleven years had passed. Without Zola pulling strings, the mutates’ numbers were dwindling, and the three began making headway in wiping them out. Some of young Phrox started joining in, and the three taught them everything they could.

And yet there were still mutates. As many as they killed each year, there seemed to be countless more that sprang up in their place. 

It was in the last year that Sharon noticed Natasha making marks in the sand.

She hadn’t forgotten that Natasha had been hiding something, but always before, she’d thought it best to let Natasha speak in her own time. But now it seemed that every time Sharon turned around, she was catching Natasha trying to figure out the date. After nearly twelve years, she lost her patience.

“Okay, what is it?”

Natasha looked up from where she’d been making marks in the sand. Russian, which Sharon still couldn’t understand. “What?”

“You’ve been hiding something for years. For God’s sake, Natasha. Just tell me what it is.”

Natasha studied her for several seconds, then looked to Ian, who was washing clothes in the river nearby. “Ian. You need to hear this, too.”

Sharon frowned. That didn’t sound good. She crossed her arms and waited while Ian sat near Natasha.

“The machine I used to come here will only take back Sharon and myself.” Natasha kept her eyes on Ian, avoiding how the blood drained from Sharon’s face. But Natasha had never been one to avoid the things she didn’t want to see for long, and after a moment, she looked back to her friend.

“What?” Sharon took a step forward.

Natasha took a breath. “Reed’s machine can’t take all three of us back. It’s just you and me, Sharon.”

“We can’t just leave him here, Natasha! Steve promised to show Ian Earth! I- When you came, I thought-”

Natasha’s mouth set in a line. Sharon had thought Natasha had come to save them both. “I had a mission. _You_ were my mission. You still are.” Natasha hesitated. She’d seen how close Sharon and Ian had grown. In an odd way, Sharon sometimes seemed more at peace here than she did back home. “Unless you want to stay. Then I’ll go back alone. But I’m not sure I could come back, Sharon.”

“No.” They both looked to Ian as he got to his feet. “You’re both going back.”

Sharon’s face fell. “Ian. I’m not going to-”

He walked toward her. “You _are_ going to. Sharon, this is my home. I’ve grown up here. I’ve lived here. You, Steve, the Phrox. You’re my family. And I don’t want- I can’t abandon the Phrox.” He hung his head. “I never really wanted to go to Earth, anyway. You and Papa love it, but...” But part of him was afraid to leave the only home he’d ever known. “But this is my home.”

Sharon shook her head. “The Phrox will manage on their own. You’ll settle in on Earth. I’ll make sure of it.”

“No.” Ian’s voice was quiet, but it was no less firm. “You’re getting out of here. I’m staying here. We’re both going to our own worlds. And if you find a way to visit, then come visit. If I find a way to visit... maybe I’ll be ready then. Maybe I’ll feel I can leave then. But right now? I can’t. I won’t.” He stopped speaking, staring in surprise at the tears falling down Sharon’s face. He hadn’t seen her cry like this since he told her how long he’d been dead. He didn’t know what to do when she cried like this. What was he supposed to do?

He jumped as Natasha put her hand on his arm. “Come with me.” Natasha tugged, and Ian followed dumbly. They were out of sight and still walking when Natasha spoke again, her voice calm. “She’ll be fine. She just needs space. Sharon has never been good at hiding her emotions.” She paused and turned to look at him. “You’ve become like a son to her, you know. She was pregnant before she came here but lost the baby. Her crying like this, it isn’t because she’s upset with you. It’s because she doesn’t want to lose you.”

Ian hung his head. He wanted to say something, but his throat felt thick, almost clogged.

Natasha continued. “Here’s the deal. You’re essentially immortal now. Sharon might be, too, though she’ll never be as strong as you. I don’t age all that fast, either. So when you get out, you track us down. No matter where we are. And if we find a way to get back to you, we’re doing it. By the time we do, I expect you to have beaten the mutates once and for all, because you’re coming back with us, no matter how afraid of the earthly world you are.” She moved closer and squeezed his shoulder. “And take it from me. No matter how long it takes, don’t give up on us.”

Ian nodded, but his voice didn’t work until Natasha started to walk away. “How- how much time do you think you have?”

“I don’t think we can stay a week.” She stopped and half-turned, not looking at him. “I’ll get her to agree to go by then. Sharon likes to think she’s the one making decisions. If she leaves before she’s ready, she’ll never-” forgive Natasha or herself. “She needs to leave of her own accord. If we don’t leave soon, Sue will call us back whether we’re ready or not.”

He nodded again. “Understood.”

Natasha walked away, and he didn’t follow. He was too busy thinking about the decades he’d spent with Sharon. She might have shot him, but he’d come to care for her.

* * *

Natasha waited until Ian fell asleep before moving to Sharon’s side. She touched Sharon’s shoulder lightly, and together, the two of them crept silently away so they wouldn’t disturb Ian.

“You knew,” Sharon murmured. “You’ve known since you got here that we couldn’t take Ian back. You should have told me.”

“Perhaps. But he and I both needed you at your best, and you’ve been more than willing to get yourself killed in the past.” Natasha crossed her arms. “You needed hope. I wanted you to have it.” They were both experienced enough to know that hope was often fleeting. “I swear to you, Sharon. I didn’t know he existed. If I had, I could have planned for it, but the machine is keyed to the two of us. It can’t transport a third person, and it’s only got enough juice for one more trip. Richards might be able to make another, but it will take time. We’ll bring him to Earth, Sharon. It would help if you could prove you’re alive. And that means meeting with Richards. But all of it will take time, and that means we have to help Ian prepare for when he doesn’t have backup.” She moved in closer. “You’ll do it, Sharon. Not only because you can, but because it’s what you have to do.”

The silence stretched between them. At last, Sharon gave a nod. “We go straight to Reed when we get out.” She turned and headed back to camp. 

When Natasha followed, she was pleased to see that Sharon was already asleep.

* * *

If Ian had thought Sharon was a hellion when they first met, he now had a change of mind. Sharon picked up the drills with him and the Phrox again, and if they weren’t doing physical drills under Natasha’s supervision, they were being tested in codes and stealth under Sharon’s. She quizzed them on the most minute of details, made them practice with knives and bows. It was enough to tire Ian out some days, but he couldn’t bring himself to resent her for it. He had other things to think about.

He had sometimes thought when he was younger what he would say to Papa if they’d known they’d separate. Sometimes, he thought he knew. He’d say that he loved him and missed him. But that seemed commonplace, too trite to be meaningful, and he’d think about telling his Papa how Ian wished he could go fishing in blue water under blue sky, or see a baseball field; how he would always remember what his Papa told him.

And now he had the chance to say it to Sharon. He had days to plan what to say, and yet nothing ever seemed right. He kept going through drafts in his head in those precious moments when he didn’t have drills.

And finally, almost when it was too late, an idea occurred to him.

* * *

Ian cleared his throat as the three of them stood in the clearing where Natasha had first appeared. Some of the Phrox who had already said their good-byes to Sharon waited for Ian to join them nearby.

“I’ve... been trying to think of what to say,” Ian began hesitantly. It had finally occurred to him that he’d never had to say good-bye to someone who hadn’t died in battle before. What could he say to someone who was simply going to leave? “Every time I think I know what I want to say, it...”

Sharon nodded. “Feels like it isn’t enough. Same here. But-” She looked at him helplessly for a moment before diving in. “I’m sorry I shot you. If I’d known- But I’m really glad to have got to know you. I’ll- I’ll miss you, Ian.” She took a breath. “And I know you don’t want to be called the Zola boy anymore. I was thinking you could use Nomad. Steve originated it and passed it on to people he trusted. I think he’d be proud if you took on the mantle.” She swallowed, then hugged him tightly around the neck. “I’m proud of you. For what it’s worth. I wanted you to know that I’m proud of you.”

Ian forgot most of what he’d planned to say. His arms hesitantly wrapped around her waist, and he swallowed thickly. “I’d- I’d have been proud to call you mom. For what it’s worth.”

She stiffened as she fought to keep from sobbing, and her voice shook when she said, “I’d be honored if you did.” She pulled away slowly, tugging at an invisible wrinkle in his shirt. “Finish up here, and we’ll get you to Earth.” His face was blurry through her tears, but she forced a smile. “And I’ll introduce you to girls and ground you and teach you how to fly fighter jets. All sorts of things.”

Ian nodded. He couldn’t seem to get his vocal cords to work. He handed her two pieces of wood wrapped together with vines and forced himself to speak. It took him two tries. “Don’t look at it until you’re back on Earth, okay?”

Sharon took it and nodded, tears already threatening to drip from her chin. She pressed the package against her chest. It occurred to Ian that no one had ever cried about him like Sharon had.

He looked to Natasha and started to speak, but she held up a hand. “Don’t. This isn’t good-bye. We’ll see each other again, Ian. Soon. Sharon. Come on.”

“Bye, Mom. I mean.” Ian glanced at Natasha before dropping his eyes back to Sharon. “I’ll see you later.” Hesitantly, he kissed the top of Sharon’s head as Steve had done to him nearly two centuries ago. 

Sharon bit her lip and coughed out something that sounded like, “Later.” She forced herself to join Natasha and gave Ian a brittle smile as Natasha hit something on her wrist and they disappeared.

* * *

“About time you two got back.” 

Sharon looked up to see a woman with short black hair standing over her. It took her a moment to recognize her. “Hill?”

“Carter.” Maria inclined her head toward her. “Didn’t think I’d see you alive again.”

Sharon glanced at Natasha. In their world, people died and came back all the time. Was it really so odd that Sharon would do the same?

“She got here about ten minutes ago and insisted on waiting,” a blonde said from nearby. Again, it took Sharon several seconds to place her. Sue Storm. Sharon hadn’t seen her in... even before Dimension Z, it had been a while. “I can get rid of her if you want me to.”

Maria turned to Sue. “I’m the Director of SHIELD.”

Sue shrugged, unimpressed, and went to help Sharon up. Sharon remembered that Sue had a protective streak and gave her a grateful smile. Realizing her cheeks were still wet, Sharon wiped them quickly.

“Hill arranged for me to save Sharon,” Natasha pointed out. “I can understand her wanting to save an agent from behind enemy lines, but I don’t understand why she’d come here.” She watched Maria, and though she didn’t seem outwardly suspicious, none of them were fooled.

Maria scowled. “Sharon was Director of SHIELD once and might have gotten the job instead of me if she hadn’t been such a Fury loyalist. She’s also a coworker and one of the best agents SHIELD has. Steve will be glad to hear you’re alive, Sharon.”

“No.” 

Maria, Natasha, and Sue all turned to look at her, and Sharon shook her head. “I just spent more time in that place than most people have lived. I- It isn’t the first time he’s given up on me.” She hung her head. “I know that I’ll probably forgive him, but I want some time. For me. And Steve is really bad about giving me time and space. He’ll say he’ll give it to me, but then he’ll hover. He’s done it before. I just- I’ve been fighting mutates and Zola for so long... Don’t tell him I’m back yet.”

Maria looked at Natasha, but Natasha’s attention was almost fully on Sharon. “Fine. I can arrange for a therapist if you want one.”

Sharon shook her head. “I actually have one already. SHIELD-certified and everything. Thank you, though.” After Faustus, she was hesitant to try new therapists after she’d finally found one that worked. She took a deep breath. “I’m going to need some personal time, Maria. Just a couple days. And then I’ll need a case. We both know why you came here, and it wasn’t so you could tell Steve I was back.” She narrowed her eyes at Maria. “You were testing me. You want a dead girl on your payroll to take care of missions you don’t want SHIELD traced to.”

“We have the Secret Avengers for that.”

Natasha cleared her throat. “You have to admit, the Secret Avengers tend to attract attention.”

Maria glared at them both. “Fine. Yes. You can do that if you want. God knows, I have cases that I could slip to you. But Sharon. Is it really so impossible to imagine I might not want you to die?”

Natasha covered Sharon’s hand with her own as Sharon’s eyes widened. “You’ll have to forgive her, Hill. My mother has unfortunate self-worth issues.”

Sharon scowled at her, and Natasha grinned.

“Maybe I need to get you a therapist, too,” Maria murmured. She eyed the wooden boards that Sharon still clung to but in the end looked to Sue. “None of what happened here leaves this place, understand? If I find out this information got out, I swear to you I will destroy parts of you that you didn’t know you had.”

Sue still looked unimpressed. People had tried to do that before, and all they’d gotten for their troubles had been pain and humiliation. Sue didn’t like it when her family or their livelihood was threatened. 

Maria looked to Sharon next. “When you’re ready, call me. I’ll be waiting.” She turned and headed out.

“My place,” Natasha told them. “Best place to hide a dead girl this side of Brooklyn.” She lead them there, her hand never far from Sharon’s in case Sharon needed the support. Her friend was jumping at the loud noises that she hadn’t heard in so long, staring at things as if she didn’t recognize them anymore. When they got to Natasha’s apartment, she made Sharon sit while she went to get them all tea. She pasted a smile on her face as she walked out with a tray. “And now the real adventure begins.”

* * *

Hours later, after having made her request to Sue about another machine, Sharon was unable to sleep. Natasha insisted that Sharon stay at her place, and Sharon had fought to stay on the couch instead of Natasha’s bed. But after all her time in Dimension Z, as she’d found it was called, she didn’t feel comfortable sleeping on a soft surface. 

Deciding to get some tea before trying to sleep again, Sharon grabbed the wooden boards Ian had given her and took them with her, undoing the vines as she boiled the water. She hadn’t looked at it while Sue and Natasha had been around. It had felt too personal. And Sue still didn’t know who Ian was, only that he was an ally. Maria still didn’t know about Ian at all.

Knots undone, she set the vines aside and picked up the board. Inside was a piece of rough parchment. Thinking it was a letter, Sharon turned it over.

It was a painting. Steve, with a beard, smiling and laughing, and Sharon, dressed in her ragged clothes from Dimension Z, also smiling. Between them was a younger version of Ian, holding each of their hands. A note in the corner read, “To Mom, with love, Ian Rogers.”

She stared at it until long after the water started to boil. Then she silently covered it up again, turned off the stove, and went back to the couch. With the painting and its protective boards hidden beneath the cushion, she finally managed to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just say Volume 7 upset me. 
> 
> If you've read this far, thank you, and I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
